


The Collector of hearts

by Evvienna



Category: British Actor RPF, Irish Actor RPF, James McAvoy - Fandom, Michael Fassbender - Fandom, Scottish Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: 19th Century, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Brutal Murder, Explicit Sexual Content, Masturbation, Murder Mystery, Oral Sex, Other, Prostitution, Serial Killers, Supernatural Elements, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evvienna/pseuds/Evvienna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1847 – A streak of gruesome murders has been unsettling the United Kingdom over several years now. Every victim is mutilated in a very specific way that leaves no doubt of the crimes being committed by the same person and from pure malice. Involuntarily, a young Glaswegian detective is sent to a village in Hampshire where the last bodies were found, to support the local police´s investigations.<br/>Soon he finds out that not everything is what it seems, not even his own existence…</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Collector of hearts

With equal satisfaction and curiosity he looked down on her dying body, with the detached perspective of a scientist almost, watching the fleeing blood slowly drain the colour from her cheeks and lips and disperse on the muddy grass around her in little rills, soaking her shredded dress and tinting her long blonde hair in a dirty scarlet shade until the light in her eyes finally extinguished.   
It was a spectacle that never lost its appeal, no matter how many times it presented itself to him.   
Her fleshes tender taste was still on his tongue as he walked around her to capture the cruel beauty of her death and the service she had done to him with it. He made no effort to arrange the distorted limbs in any way and gleefully smiled at the thought of what a truly horrific sight it would be for the poor devil who would find her. Licking a drop of her blood from his thumb, he took one long last look at his work and with a complacent smile, and a sated appetite, he strolled back to the carriage, thinking of an excuse to skip dinner - his official dinner – once again.

The day´s last rays of sun tickled James Buckley´s nose as he leaned out of the carriage to see if they were finally approaching the small town of Rotherwyck.   
Apple trees lined the road they were travelling on, and their branches, filled with myriads of rosy-cheeked fruit, tilted down under their heavy load and almost touched the gravelly ground. Together with harmonious birdsong, their sweet scent made the air thick and James tried to relax when he inhaled it. With closed eyes, huffing out in exhaustion over the unexpectedly warm evening, he wiped a thin film of sweat from his brows.  
“Excuse me sir,” he called out to the carter after he had reopened his eyes, holding on to the handle, “how long do you think it will be until our arrival? My empty stomach can surely tolerate a few more hours of travelling, but I´m not so sure my behind can.”  
Barely audible, the grey-bearded carter muttered a few syllables, clearly signalizing that repeating the question was a waste of time.   
“That´s what I thought,” the young detective sergeant sighed to himself and faced being forced to spend another good amount of time in the horse-drawn vehicle. He stretched his legs as far as the very confined inside of the carriage allowed him to, which was not very much even though he wasn´t of a striking tallness, rather the opposite. He lifted his pelvis to rub his sore backside and cursed both the poorly cushioned seats as well the bumpy road from Glasgow to Hampshire.   
The journey had been unpleasant and arduous from the beginning, but James had no one else to blame but himself for being where he was.   
Of course it was not a coincidence that out of a crew of over twenty Glaswegian policemen, all honourable and dutiful men who had more or less enthusiastically volunteered to help solving the Great Murder Mystery of the last years, he was the one chosen to come to the British countryside, far away from home, friends and family, to prove his investigative skills and support the local police.   
Far away he would definitely be, especially from the Detective Superintendent´s daughter, Sophia.  
The young girl had fluttered her eyes at the handsome young detective from the moment they first met and wasn´t necessarily shy about her intentions. She always found ways to run into him, several times a week, perfectly accidentally of course, which was almost a miracle in a populous city like Glasgow.  
Official events at the police department started to become a shrewd affair for James, because without a doubt she would appear and search for him, not matter how well he hid, and then hover over him until he found an excuse to leave.   
It was nothing unusual that women doted on James; a circumstance he enjoyed quite much and liked to take advantage of at times. He had the adorable look of a puppy he was told, with big blue eyes and full, pink lips; and that seemingly boyish exterior was so charmingly counterbalanced by a keen wit and a dirty, sometimes acerbic humour, traits that surprised most people when they met him for the first time.   
But when it came to Sophia, what bothered him was not that she wasn´t pretty or lovely enough, because she was both, not his type perhaps, but still pretty; and as lovely as she had to be to win him over. Her fault was only that she was too young and too eager. This man liked his women worldly-wise and snappy; someone he had to woo and fight for, not a young girl who had yet to experience the world and its wonders and was impressed by the simplest gestures.   
Someone like that wasn´t a challenge for him. But then again – if this flower wanted to be plucked so desperately - how could he resist?   
As the journey now seemed to extend to an unknown duration, James leaned back and remembered the event that sealed his fate.   
Looking back at it now, it was as unfortunate as it was, in some way, hilarious.   
It was the day of her father´s thirtieth service anniversary and Sophia had once again managed to lure James away from the festivities at the family´s house, into the music room, where she had forced him against the piano until he couldn´t move away.   
“James,” she said, standing outrageously close and playing with his cravat and he remembered her voice sounding like a nasal chant, “we´ve seen each other so often now, don´t you think it would be appropriate to have our first kiss?”  
He looked at her heaving chest and didn´t quite know what to answer, until she decided to not wait any longer and confront him with shut eyes and puckered lips.  
James knew that she wasn´t the woman he´d spend the rest of his life with, as well as he knew she wouldn´t give herself to him easily, so he determined to make the most out of this meeting.  
After a quick peck on her hot cheek that made Sophia giggle already, he whispered into her ear: “Aye, I´ll give you a kiss, but let me do it my way.”  
She leaned even further into his direction and puckered her lips a little more, but James only chuckled.  
“Not like that darlin´,” he grinned and when she opened her eyes to look at him in confusion, he had already grabbed her by the hips, turned her around and pressed to the piano.  
Slowly he bended his knees, gathered her dress and instructed her to hold it.  
Sophia didn´t know what was going to happen, she was a young, inexperienced girl after all, and when he looked up to her with that wicked grin, licking his pink lips, and pulled her undergarment down, her limbs froze in shock.  
“James, what are you doing?” she shrieked.  
Pretending to do nothing out of the ordinary, James winked at her, laid his finger on his lips and shushed.   
“I´m only giving you a kiss! Therefore, be a good girl and be silent now. You´re going to enjoy it. I promise.”  
Her legs didn´t open so willingly at first, she seemed a bit scared, but the tender strokes of his fingers and delicate kisses he placed all over her thighs and hipbones finally convinced her otherwise. The soft fluff of her mons tickled his lips in the beginning, but once his swift tongue entered her sweet cunt, her musky taste and smell ecstasized his senses and her soft moans met his ear, he kept going, with soft circles on her swelling clitoris, and the more he licked, the more receptive she became.  
James knew that he was good with his mouth, excellent even; many women had confirmed that to him after he had given them the sweetest relief with relentless strokes of his soft tongue or vigorous sucks of his lips. He loved the act itself but knowing that not many men liked to pleasure their women in such a way, he also enjoyed the feeling of power it gave him. And he was clever enough to know that all of those women, having been served so selflessly, would very happily to return the favour.   
Though his hardening cock already painfully pulsed against his tight trousers, he knew that his own pleasure he had to be delayed and taken care of when he was back home.   
He would have a little more red wine, find a relaxed position in his favourite armchair and massage his large cock, her taste still on his lips, easing the tension while dreaming of what a real, grown woman would do with him.  
So they stood there, young Sophia with her legs spread as wide as she could, leaning against the antique piano, groaning with pleasure and her hands in his hair, and James, clutching her hips with a tight grip and his mouth busy on her opened, overflowing sex, when suddenly her father, with at least three other policemen in tow, walked in on them, elf-evidently only mildly amused by the view.  
James could have sworn that was the exact moment Sophia climaxed under his tongue.   
A very delicate situation indeed, so Sophia´s father, infuriated but very aware that he couldn´t terminate his most promising detective sergeant´s employment, had to take action.   
To keep up his appearances and get a safe distance between his beloved daughter and her apparent suitor and threat to her maidenhood, he distinctly suggested James to leave for Hampshire; the sooner the better.  
For James on the other hand, this decision came in quite handy.  
He got away from Sophia´s advances and was presented an opportunity to come to fame. And fortune as well, maybe.  
Recalling this memory, James chuckled and his mood instantly improved.   
Anyway, whatever tomorrow would bring when he would meet with the village police, tonight he would do nothing else than rest his sore bones in a comfortable bed at the Green Leaf Inn, where he had booked a room for an indefinite period of time. 

Michael Braddock sat at the bar of the shabby Merry Widow, not far from his workplace, the Hewlett family estate, and had his first drink after a long day of hard work. This place was obviously the inferior option in comparison to the posher Green Leaf Inn, but he liked that he could reach it within a few minutes’ walk and the alcohol was cheap, too. The lean man in his mid-thirties regaled himself with some stale beer, and after some time had passed and he had two of them, he let his eyes scan the tavern for some female company, of the purchasable kind.   
It wasn´t long until he found someone returning his looks.  
She gave a toothless smile as he addressed her wordlessly with a questioning nod, and when she came closer, he didn´t mind the least bit that she reeked of cheap rum and other men who had her before him. She wasn´t anything nearly close to beautiful, not pretty even, but she would do for his needs tonight.   
Both nodded; he let some coins fall into her palm and consequently, they had a deal.  
It was the one thing he liked about whores – it was an uncomplicated business relation, short and satisfying for both parties.  
She serviced him unhastily but adroitly, and though it was something he paid for, she seemed to enjoy his cock in her hand, and he assumed because he was generous with his coins or because he was her last customer of the day. What he didn´t know was that she found him very attractive, as contrasted with all the other men who seeked her out for a quick relief day in and day out.  
She had seen him before a few times and was intrigued by his rugged handsomeness and the simple fact that the brooding man with the light blue eyes and the unruly hair was relatively new in town piqued her interest. He had a strange, mysterious aura about him she failed to grasp; his stare however left no doubt of what he wanted.   
Those who shyly circled her until they made their interest clear and being painfully obvious while doing so, were commonly easy customers and quickly satisfied. That was certainly an advantage sometimes and ensured easy money for little effort. Nevertheless, she enjoyed having a real man in front of her for a change, someone who adhered to his desires and wasn´t afraid to openly approach her.   
She took her time with him and worked him with enjoyment; she liked how he lowly growled under her touch as they stood behind the pub, not very hidden from sight; he kneaded her breasts firmly as her hand milked his large cock, and that was all the touch she allowed him and all the touch he wanted. When he spurted his thick warm load on her dress and stuttered a deep sigh, he stared into her eyes; it was something she had never witnessed another man doing. It was as if he looked into her soul and exposed all her faults and missteps, and though she felt bewildered by the remorse it brought with it, a feeling she had learned to bury deep inside her, lightness overcame her when he suddenly smiled. Her initial instinct told her to shy away from this peculiar behaviour, but in the very next moment, it felt as if he had given her something she had searched for all those years in vain: forgiveness.

The night had been short and slumberless as James Buckley couldn´t find a comfortable sleeping position on the hard bed in his room at the inn, and Mrs. Cobb, the housekeeper, a sturdy elderly woman with a round, friendly face and a sonorous voice hadn´t hesitated to wake him as soon as the cock crowed for the first time.  
Her vehement knocks were accompanied by a cheerful greeting.  
“Wakey, wakey, Mr. Buckley! It´s a brand new day! Time to solve some murders!”  
A little bit concerned, James buried his face in the pillow once more and had to realize that the purpose of his stay got about already.   
After a quick morning wash James staggered down the stairs to find a little table set for his breakfast.  
Tea, scrambled eggs, bread and butter, some beans and herbs on the side. Simple but delicious, he thought while he chewed on his first bite. He looked around the room and watched how busy things already were at this early hour.  
Some maidservant swept the parlour, crockery and cutlery clattered loudly in the kitchen, a few women chattered outside about new arrivals from London at the clothes shop and a stagecoach passed which caused a flock of chicken to flutter up nervously.  
It seemed brave to James that the villagers were trying to keep up their daily life and their good spirits in light of the repugnant events that had been plaguing their country for years, and now even afflicted their closest familiar surroundings.   
He finished his breakfast and started out for the local morgue, not noticing that someone was following him.

“So, Mr. Buckley, you were sent here to do what exactly?”   
Mr. Hastings, the coroner, all agog with expectation, appraisingly wrinkled his nose and adjusted his glasses after he had uncovered the latest victim of her dirty and blood soaked shroud.  
James felt slightly offended and decided to respond in the same, rude manner, but before that, he took a detailed look at the naked, partly mauled body.  
“Well, Mr. Hastings, I was sent her to accomplish something the local police obviously couldn´t over the last years: solve a series of murders.”  
James couldn´t help but grin, and tilted his head to the side, mentally preparing for a debate that could easily turn into an ugly fight of words.  
The coroner´s jaw started to tense with disgruntlement, but before he could retort the snide remark, James, realizing that this man would be someone he had to work with closely hereafter, softened his tone.  
“My government is of the opinion that we can put a stop to this killer faster and easier if the best and most experienced men of each region and department worked together.”  
Those words seemed to appease the coroner, but not convince him entirely.  
“Would you be so kind as to give me the details about this body then, sir?”  
James took out his notebook and pencil and looked at Mr. Hastings, waiting for a response and hoping he had settled this unfortunate first encounter. Otherwise, it would mean for him to do most of the research himself, and that would take countless, burdensome hours of work.  
Hastings sighed.  
“Alright, so this is the fourth victim in this region in one year now,“ he began, scratching his balding head.  
“As you can see, the corpses, or rather the people they were when they still lived, show no similarities in regard of their social background or place of residence. As far as we found out, two of them were locals, two of them were not. All of them are between their early twenties and late thirties, so no age preference here, nor any towards a certain outward appearance. They are of different body types and their skin tones or hair colours vary.”  
“Hm, so no specific pattern…” James mumbled as he scribbled down some notes.  
“This is the third woman we found, so the murderer doesn´t seem to clearly prefer one gender, though he seems to incline towards women. Not one of the females was still a virgo intacta, so that lets us presume the murderer has either had a physical relationship with his victims or was on the search for someone who had a more, let´s say, liberal lifestyle, because none of the victims were actually married.”  
“So our killer is on the look for uncommitted, young men or women who come from practically anywhere. That doesn´t necessarily narrow down possible victims or suspects Mr. Hastings.”  
Both sighed with frustration.  
“I know, Mr. Buckley, but that is all we have at the moment.”  
“So what is the one thing all the victims have in common?”   
James started to pace in the sparse room and his steps echoed hollowly against the grey, cold walls.  
“Their cause of death of course.”  
Mr. Hastings agreed, silently nodding.   
“All victims bled to death because their hearts were ripped out, very likely while they were still alive. And those hearts were never found, am I correct?”  
Again, Hastings nodded.  
“That means our killer takes them with him as trophy.”  
“Or he eats them,” the coroner stated, being absolutely serious.  
The young detective sergeant pointed his pencil at Hastings and sniggered.  
“We do not know that Mr. Hastings, but I´ll keep your theory in mind!“   
James narrowly avoided breaking out into maniacal laughter when he felt a strange enthusiasm for this case surging within him.  
His interest in it when he read about it in the police reports or newspapers was more of a limited nature, to put it mildly. But now he was right in the middle of gore and violence and danger, and he started to love it.  
“Oh, this could be interesting,“ he whispered to himself, “a murderer who takes his victim´s hearts like trophies… what does he do with them… they bear a special meaning to him… to me it looks like he collects them…”  
“That´s very much within the possibilities, Mr. Buckley,” Mr. Hastings confirmed.  
“At least that´s what people from around here think. And that´s why they gave him this strangely romantic nickname: The collector of hearts.”


End file.
